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july 5, 2001.I've finally hit a pause in the day. What on earth made me think that it was a good idea to host dinner this week? My mate's out of town until tonight, leaving me with a dirty house and a dizzying cold (although none of these are his fault.) Stuff just kept happening last night, stuff that kept me from the vacuum cleaner. My mother's going to the Dominican Republic on Saturday for a 2-week nursing mission, so I spent quite a bit of time catching up with her instead of cleaning the house. This week is also a good time to thank my co-workers for stumping up the baking & effort to help me out of my computer jam. So when I wasn't on the phone to mom, Hermione or the Boy, I was putting my 'homegirls' issue of Bust to good use by baking a Hawaiian Wedding Cake and a batch of 'Orgasm Inducing Double Chocolate Chip Cookies.' (This year I have discovered that baking is just that much harder without a handmixer…but you know. I cope. I put Stacy's blender to use whenever necessary and I melt everything else over the stove.) In summary, when I wasn't on the phone or baking like a maddened Martha Stewart, I was frantically cleaning the house. I stayed up until midnight, and would've been up longer than that, but my feet started to cramp up and I took it as a sign. My feet have been giving me hell this summer. At first I thought it was my high-heeled sandals, so I stopped wearing them. But even when I've gone around barefoot all day, or worn Doc's, my feet twinge & cramp with frightening (though unpredictable) regularity. I'd like to go see a homeopathic doctor, but I know that they'll just take me off red meat, dairy and wheat no matter what my problem is (or so I've picked up from others who go to the witch doctors). The whole thing frightens me deeply. My aunt is considered a hypochondriac because constant aches and pains beset her. There has always been an unspoken conviction in my family that if you start complaining about less-obvious ailments, you are on a quick road to physical weakness and a complicated chemical dependency. If my feet continue to hurt without reason, it puts a crack in my healthy façade. Who knows what could happen once you begin to admit that you don't know why your body aches?
I wish that I wasn't vaguely excited by the possibility. Whee!
this time 3 years ago: the party that closed the social loop |
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I mean, especially since I am female, and most medicine is based around male standards of health. I could end up with hysteria, the most popular fictitious nervous disorder of the 19th century. And once that happens, it's a laudanum addiction and a trip to the madhouse for me.
